


Onus

by peppermintpotts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintpotts/pseuds/peppermintpotts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t remember the brutal thing between them that Stiles will never forget.</p><p>Sequel to Run Fast, Little Red</p>
            </blockquote>





	Onus

Derek wakes to the taste of blood. It’s thick, sour and coppery but holds a relative sweetness that the wolf in him likes.

The sky is just beginning to light up, going from that endless matte of black to a brightening shade of blue. The sun will be up soon, making a stealthy escape near impossible.

His hands are sickly, crusted with so much dried blood and Derek panics, He can’t remember…anything.

Derek turns over; the grass around him is matted with blood. It’s still wet in patches and he feels a slight spark of relief. Maybe the blood is his, maybe he didn’t hurt anyone.

_ _ _

Derek hates this hospital; it’s filled with so many bad memories. He’s about to add one more.

He follows that scent, buried beneath bleach, sickness and death. The one that smells like home or at least it did, before it became important to him and therefore easier to destroy.

The woman smiles, but it’s half-hearted and sad. “He’s stabilized for now; lost a lot of blood but the police said he must have put up a good fight given the defensive wounds.” The nurse explains as she tucks the crisp sheets in around Stiles’ battered body.

The heartbeat he’s come to know as well as his own is off. Everything about this is wrong and twisted, curing into a ball that settles in his gut.

Derek climbs into his car and heads for the highway. He leaves it all behind, there’s nothing in Beacon Hills he’s even remotely attached to.

Then why am I running?

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

Scott doesn’t speak but Derek can feel the anger radiating from the other end of the phone, can feel the damnation from miles away.

“I made sure he was okay.” Derek whispers before hanging up.

_ _ _

_It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since he woke, mind hazy, to the taste of blood in his mouth. More specifically the taste of Stiles blood in his mouth; the thought makes his stomach churn even now._

Stiles recoils from him and it’s fucking hard to not take that personal. Derek knows he deserves it; the reaction is so fucking warranted. Doesn’t make it sting any less.

Even at his worse Stiles has never pulled away, at least not in fear of him. For all the threats and physical intimidation that he’s hurled Stiles’ way, the teen has always met him on a level playing field. Stiles may be fragile but he’s never looked fragile, not the way he does right now.

It’s different; Stiles no longer smells like an equal, he smells like prey. It burns, more so with the physical evidence staring him in the face, Derek can’t remember. He can’t remember the brutal thing between them that Stiles will never forget.

“I don’t remember -” Derek cuts off, he knows that doesn’t make a difference. Not when he can see the bruises around Stiles wrists. Bruises everywhere, bruises that will match his blunt fingers, direct imprints of his hands, hands that always did too much damage. The edges of bite mark on his throat are angry and raw, or maybe that’s just his imagination.

“You’re immune to the bite.” It’s not what he means to say but it will do as an opener.

Stiles nods, inching back on his bed until his back is against the headboard. Derek maintains his spot by the door, not willing to risk anything by closing the distance between them. He wants to, he wants to touch Stiles so much, to make him feel just how fucking sorry he is.

“You didn’t come to the hospital.” Stiles whispers, Derek hears him loud and clear.

“The first time I woke up my Dad was there, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. The next time it was Scott. He said he and his Mom were able to convince my father to go home and get some sleep. Hell one time I woke up and Erica was just staring at me, which was creepy but she was there. So where the hell were you?”

The last question is angry and Derek is thankful for that. Anger he can do. He can face that down, meet it head on and deal with it.

“I didn’t think I should be there.” It’s a bullshit answer but it’s the only one he’s got.

“Because…” Stiles stretches out the word pressing for the things Derek won’t say.

“I pride myself on being able to control the wolf, on controlling my transformations. The one time I needed absolute control and I failed.”

“So it’s about your pride then?”

“Goddamnit, you know it’s not about that.” His frustration at the entire situation is driving him crazy. That and the cuts on Stiles neck practically screaming damnation at him. “I hurt you. Every mark on you I put there. I dragged you onto that field and nearly ripped you to pieces.” There is something else there too. Something in the way Stiles bits his bruised lip, like this is all things he’s considered already.

Stiles rubbed absently at the bandages around his ankles. His eyes flew to them as he caught himself at the thought of Derek dragging him to the lacrosse field. He’s been trying to convince himself that Derek wasn’t responsible. Logically he knows what happened, he knows the facts, knows that Derek had control stripped from him. His body doesn’t wan to cooperate with that knowledge. He’s on edge, his eyes darting from Derek’s face to his hands and back. His chest tightens and it feels like the room is closing in on him very slowly.

“I should go.”

Stiles won’t meet his eyes. “You don’t have to go” He says, even though it’s the exact opposite of what he wants. “Are you going to leave town again?”

Derek climbs out of the window silently, dropping down and darting off into the woods. He could leave town for good, run like his life depends on it, it’s the last resort option.

He can’t leave, not really. And maybe, just maybe, if he stays he can fix this. Maybe he can still make this right.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for hc_bingo prompt: atonement


End file.
